(A/N: Here's chapter six. 0.- I got really mushy all of a sudden. rolls eyes I don't think it's out of character, but if it is, oh well. I thought it was cute ;p. And I know what fic I'm going to be doing next. It's gonna be called 'The Last of the Saiyans', featuring mirai Trunks (the one who came back to warn the Z guys about the androids, in case anyone out there has been living under a rock) and the future that never was. It's a continuation of sorts. After Trunks goes back and defeats the androids and Cell, he becomes extremely famous - but grudgingly. All he wants is to settle down and forget it ever happened. Also, he wants to document (being the dork he is) the history of the Saiyans, so that when he is gone and the race is dead, there will at least be a memory of the fearsome warriors. So one day he senses a power level that is greater than any he had felt in years, and he goes to investigate. He finds this girl and she runs from him, and he follows her home. Her parents say she is sort of strange and that he should stay away before shutting him out of the house. He vows to come back and investigate later. But he meets up with a nasty surprise when he gets home…
So yeah, basically it's going to be a love story between mirai Trunks and this mystery girl who somehow has a connection to the Saiyan race. I thought it would be original, but I could be wrong. Tell me what you think.
Oh yeah, and enjoy the chapter. snicker snicker I thought it was funny…)
Halfway through the night, Bulma awoke to find that her prince was gone. Startled into wakefulness by his sudden absence, she slipped hastily into her robe and pulled back the gossamer red bed curtains to look for him. She didn't have to look far - the prince was perched on the windowsill, outlined by the full silver moon. His black hair shimmered faintly in the ghostly light as he turned to face her.
"The full moon," he said quietly, as if that explained everything. Folding his arms across his bare chest, he turned back to stare once more into the night.
"I see that," Bulma replied with a frown. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her silk robe tighter around her lithe body and shivered.
Vegeta shot her an irritated glance, as if her miniscule movement had somehow infringed upon the majesty of the moon. "Well, don't just stand there, woman!" he growled, holding out an impatient hand to her. "Come over here."
Nodding jerkily, she padded across the carpet to where he sat in the window, half expecting him to take her into his arms. When he did not, she let out a sigh of disappointment and leaned against the opposite pane.
"Right there," he murmured, pointing to a hole in the sky that was just left of the moon. "That's where it should be."
"Vejitaseii?" she asked, squinting in the direction he indicated.
"What else?" he snorted. "But yes, it should be right there, just beyond the Earthen moon."
"I see," she replied, not knowing what else to say. Silence fell over them as Vegeta continued to stare blankly out the window while Bulma wondered idly how she could coerce him back into bed. She had never seen him so…thoughtful. It was almost scary to see such a deep look on the proud, stoic face. Feeling the early hours tickle at the back of her throat, she stifled a yawn.
Vegeta caught it out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "You can go back to bed if you want, woman. I, however, am staying here. The full moon holds fond memories for me, and I would like to be left to myself to enjoy them"
The girl shot him a sidelong look. "I thought you told me a Saiyan cherishes nothing," she pointed out.
He raised a black eyebrow. "I never said I 'cherished' them. Fond memories for me would probably be considered barbaric slaughter to you humans. As you probably learned with Kakarot, a Saiyan transforms at the sight of the full moon. With these powerful Lutz Waves, we become the most powerful beings in the universe!"
"Yeah, I know all about that," she said with a shudder. "Goku used to transform when he was a kid. In fact, he did it so much and caused so much pain that he decided to cut off his tail once and for all."
Vegeta snorted derisively. "Kakarot is a fool. A stupid, sentimental fool." Raising his head, he gazed longingly up at the shimmering orb. "I would give anything to have my tail back," he murmured. "Life among the humans would be so much easier…"
Wincing at the evil smile that twitched his lips, Bulma pushed herself away from the window and started back for the bed. "So sorry you think of us that way," she grumbled, pushing back the curtains. "Life with us weaklings must be so difficult for you without being able to blow us up and pound your fuzzy chests." Sighing, she threw herself down on the mattress and pulled the pillow up over her head.
"Yes," he whispered, not taking his eyes from the moon. "Then it would be easier to remember that I'm not one of you."
Bulma sat up abruptly. "What was that?" she asked, hardly believing her ears. "Vegeta, what did you say?"
The prince didn't answer. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of the sill and made as if to leave.
"Vegeta, wait!" Throwing her pillow to the floor, she hurried back over to the window, reaching out a hand to catch him if he should try to fly away. But he had already slipped out into the night. "Vegeta!" she called after him, a catch in her voice. She stuck her head out the window and looked desperately back and forth, hoping to at least detain an image of his retreating form. "Take me with you," she murmured.
"Just this once."
Bulma jumped about three feet in the air as the shadowed silhouette floated out of the darkness. The Saiyan's arms were folded across his chest, and his heavy, muscular body hovered on the night wind easily as a feather. Noting her surprise, a smirk touched his thin lips.
"Don't get used to it, woman. I'm in a good mood tonight, but that can certainly change!" He gestured her near with an unusually bare hand. The gloves had been left on the floor where they had been carelessly thrown a short time ago. "Well, what are you waiting for!" he demanded when she hesitated. "I can promise you that you will never receive this opportunity again." The black eyes flashed dangerously, and she knew he meant it.
"J-just one second," she stammered. "I have to get something warmer on…"
"Don't be ridiculous!" he snarled, grabbing her arm and yanking her out the window. Letting out a shrill shriek, she clutched at him with fevered hands, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Vegeta chuckled softly, the irritation melting from his eyes as he watched her cuddle closer to him. The moon embraced them both with its silver clothed arms, smiling as the Saiyan Prince rested his chin upon her head.
"Yes," he whispered, glancing up at the silver globe as if sharing a private joke. "Just this once." Rising slowly into the air in a steady upward spiral, he buried his face in her gossamer locks, breathing deeply as he waited for her to open her eyes.
After a few minutes of simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to him, Bulma finally tore her head away from his chest far enough to look around. The lights of West City dwindled beneath her just as the cliffs had done a few days earlier. The clouds swirled by once again, but instead of racing her to the heavens, they simply sat back and gazed at her with undisguised envy. Bulma smiled down at them, suppressing the urge to throw her head back and laugh for all she was worth.
"Vegeta, this is amazing," she whispered, shivering slightly as the night air swirled around her bare ankles. Laying her head back upon his chest, she slipped her arms around his waist and tried to absorb his warmth. The prince gazed out over the horizon, eyes focused on something far away. Bulma noticed his distraction and glanced up at him curiously.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked dreamily.
"Do you still want to know what it's like to fly like a Saiyan?" he asked gruffly, as if embarrassed to even bring up the very concept.
"Uh…" she flicked her eyes over the ground far below her and swallowed hard. "Not like before, but it would be neat. I'm kind of cold, though. Can we stay like this…just a little longer?"
He smirked. "A pointless request. There is no need." Lifting his eyes to heaven, he let out a short grunt as his eyes turned startling green. They both seemed to catch on fire, and refreshing warmth flowed across her body, making her gasp in delight. Turning to look over her shoulder, she imagined her own hair was blond, that her blue eyes were green, that she was soaring through the sky at the speed of sound… She started when she felt Vegeta's arms encircle her waist as if they were securing a rope. Casting him a curious look, she was surprised to find that the 'imaginary' rope was really a cord of energy.
"I'm letting go now," Vegeta declared, letting her slip through his arms.
"WHAT? VEGETANOWAITASECOND--" Bulma started to fall again, flailing her arms and trying desperately to keep her robe from flying up in her face. But after a short time the energy cable pulled taught, and she dangled about fifteen feet beneath the Saiyan Prince. The chords flickered and disappeared, and she was about to panic when his silky voice floated down to her from above.
"It's still there," Vegeta said, amused at her reaction. "But it will hardly feel like you're flying if you see you're attached to something, idiot. Now on the count of three, I'm going to take off. One…"
Bulma's eyes went wide. "Wait not yet! I want to get used to this first--"
"Two."
"VEGETA!"
"Three!" Coiling his powerful muscles, Vegeta shot ahead into the air, pulling Bulma along behind him at a speed rivaling that of light. Bulma shrieked, but the sound was lost in the wind that rushed past her at sonic speed. But then they broke through the layer of cloud and the city laid itself bare at her feet. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered down upon the sparkling splendor.
"Amazing," she whispered. On sudden impulse, she touched her fingertips to the energy rope that encircled her waist. A rush of heat enveloped her body, so hot it was almost searing but somehow not painful. It pulsed with the regularity of a heartbeat - Vegeta's heartbeat. She cast a look at the Saiyan Prince, who shot on ahead, letting a sigh that was lost to the wind pass her open lips.
"Just this once, huh?" She glanced up at the moon that hung above her in all its shining glory. "Is this because of the full moon, I wonder? Last time he spent the night with me, it was the night of the full moon." Arching her eyebrows, she explored this new possibility. "Since his tail is gone, does it make him…" Her blue eyes trained themselves on his back, watching his hair whip in waves out behind him.
Does it make him more human?
Almost as if he had somehow heard her soft remark, Vegeta stopped abruptly, using the energy rope to pull her back to him. "That's enough," he said brusquely, dispersing the energy ropes with a wave of his hand. Hoisting her onto his back, he turned homeward and shot off.
"Vegeta," Bulma said into his ear, wondering if he had somehow heard her talking to herself. He grunted in reply. Biting her lip against a smile, she nuzzled his neck. "Thank you."
"Feh. Don't expect this to ever happen again," he retorted, flying faster to quell the flush rising on his cheeks. "I just felt generous tonight. And remember, after the brat is grown…"
"I know. You'll be gone." Pushing this to the back of her mind, she rested her head between his mighty shoulder blades and heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't worry, I won't ever forget that."
He snorted. "Counting the minutes, huh? That makes two of us."
The lump returned, but she managed to smile around it. "Sure," she said softly, fingering his fighting suit. "Sure."
When they arrived back at the house, the moon was beginning to wane, balancing precariously on the western horizon. Already the line of mountains opposite it were beginning to lighten, though dawn was still a few hours away. Vegeta pushed open her window and flew her gently inside, depositing her on her bed.
"Remember," he murmured, pulling the covers awkwardly up around her chin, "this was the only time."
"I know that," she muttered back. "You've already said that about six times."
"Don't talk to me like that!" he snarled. Turning on his heel, he headed back for the window.
"You're not staying then?" she ventured, rising up on one elbow.
He snorted. "You act as if I have nothing better to do than cater to your whims. As it were, I am going to train up in the mountains. Though what concern that is of yours I have no idea," he added, sarcastic attitude starting to return in full.
Bulma sighed, watching the wall go back up and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Right." He turned back to the window and prepared to exit. As he was about to launch himself into the dawn, she called after him one last time. "Vegeta," she murmured, "I'm sorry."
The prince cast a look over his shoulder, knowing exactly what she meant and sneering at the unpleasant memory that reeked of a certain man by the name of Yamcha. "You should be," he replied. Then, without another word, he was gone.
"I love you," she whispered after him, then rolled over and hid her face from the growing light, not wanting to believe that the magical night was over.
Two weeks slipped by during which she saw hide nor hair of Vegeta. She went to the summoning, gawked at the immense size of the Eternal Dragon (as always), saw her friends for a brief hour, then came home and hadn't left since. There was too much to do; the gravity room was in shambles, Trunks seemed to cry just about every five minutes, and she had received an order from some bigshot aristobrat from Britain or whatnot for some sort of robot. She got hardly any sleep with everything weighing down upon her, and the exhaustion was beginning to show. Dark circles constantly ringed her eyes, and she found herself nodding off over her computer. Her normally immaculate hair was flat and disheveled, giving her the appearance, coincidentally, of a mad scientist. Coffee quickly became her best friend as she tackled the workload that only seemed doubled by the emptiness in her heart.
Now, however, she had pushed the Saiyan Prince to the back of her mind as she bent over a stack of papers detailing the mechanics of the robot she was supposed to build. In one hand she held tight to the handle of her coffee mug, and in the other she clutched a pencil, which was scratching ceaselessly across the numerous equations she felt obliged to correct.
"Don't these idiots know anything about physics?" she muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "If I made it how they wanted me to, it would end up blowing up in their faces!"
Just as she was about to make the final correction, the doorbell rang, startling her to the point where she slopped hot coffee all down her front. "Great," she muttered. Looking around, she hoped that one of her parents would hear the bell and go to answer the door. But when all remained quiet, she sighed, knowing she should have known better than to think her father would rip himself away from whatever he was doing just to greet a visitor. "Don't everybody get up at once!" Not even bothering to clean herself up, she marched down the hall and opened the door.
A man who looked no older than eighteen stood on the stoop, head cocked to the side as he looked her up and down with startling blue eyes. Unruly auburn hair curled around his perfectly sculpted face and fell in waves upon his leather-jacketed shoulders. Adorned with zippers and spikes, he looked like something out of a rock band.
"Thanks, but I'm not in the mood for charities today," she growled sarcastically, preparing to shut the door in his face.
"I'm not from a charity," he said in a low, slightly British voice, catching the door before it shut. "My name is Gerard Andrews the Fourth, but I prefer 'Andy' to the formalities. I'm here to lend a hand to Ms. Bulma Briefs on building my machine." He flashed her a sexy smirk that didn't touch his eyes, which remained cold and calculating. "And I'm assuming that is you?"
Bulma blinked a few times before finally processing his words in her tired mind. "Yeah, that's me," she replied, somewhat sheepish, somewhat annoyed. "But I don't need any help, thanks. I'll run it over to your hotel when I'm done, assuming of course that you didn't fly almost eight hours to see me in Japan. Good day."
"I'm afraid that is unnecessary," he said smoothly, pulling the door open wider. "I must insist that I help with the construction. Some parts of the plans were a little…botched, if you will. I'd like to take a look at them and make some corrections."
"Already done," Bulma replied shortly, her scowl oddly resembling the one Vegeta wore so often. "I caught the mistakes when I was going through the plans."
Andy looked impressed. Pushing his hair behind his ear, he shot her a winning smile. "I should've known I would never be able to make a mistake the great Bulma Briefs couldn't fix," he laughed with a slight bow. Bulma noticed with a slight wrinkle of her nose that his ear was pierced with a golden hoop. He bowed low. "Then I would ask to be taken under the tutelage of such an ingenious woman."
Bulma rolled her eyes, but a faint blush touched her cheeks nonetheless. "Well, I guess I can show you a few things," she said, puffing up with pride. "But only a few. Come on in; I'm just going over the plans right now, but I'll be ready to start construction within the next half hour, if you're willing to wait that long."
"I have all the time in the world," he replied, rubbing his hands together. Stepping across the threshold, he followed her down the hall and into the kitchen.
"Sorry I had to draw all over your plans," she said idly, handing over the papers for his perusal. Leaning against the table with a satisfied smirk, she scooped up her mug and took a long draught of the swirling black liquid.
"No no, not at all. I'm actually quite intrigued with your work." He flipped the page and studied a long set of equations that sprawled haphazardly across the document. "But I am curious as to why you have changed the design of the interior mechanism." Glancing up with his sapphire eyes glinting in the sunlight, he pointed to a drawing that had been scratched out and replaced.
Bulma leaned over the paper and scanned the diagram with expert eyes. "Oh that. Yeah, I had to change it. I had no choice! The way you had it set up, it would have exploded the moment you touched it."
"But that was the point," he said smoothly, tapping a slender finger on the product's name. "It's a training device, used for delicate ki training."
The girl blinked over her coffee, as if not comprehending what he was saying.
Andy raised an eyebrow. "I thought you of all people would know what ki was."
She shook her head violently, sending waves of messy blue hair cascading around her head. "Of course I know what ki is! But why would a bigshot business guru like you want a ki device?"
"Oh, I don't hang around the business all the time," he said with a smirk. "I dabble in many different fields, one of my favorites being good old Tae Kwon Do." He made a playful karate chop in the air.
"Er…oh. Okay then," she mumbled reaching for the papers. "Then I guess everything is ready to go…" Raising the mug to her lips, she growled when she discovered it empty. "Damn," she muttered. "Out of coffee."
Andy shot her a concerned look. "You look tired," he commented.
"No really," she snapped back, ready to punch anything that moved until her cup magically refilled.
"You should really get some rest. If you show me to the lab, I'll start working on the robot…"
"No, I'd actually prefer if you would come back later," Bulma returned, tucking the pages of paperwork under her arm. "You'll excuse my caution, but we've only just met."
With a slight nod, he took a step back. "I understand completely, madam," he said genially. "But if I may ask a question?"
"What!" she demanded, starting to get more than a little annoyed at his intrusive nature.
"That there." He nodded toward her left hand, and she self-consciously shoved it behind her back. "Wishful thinking, or just some new Japanese fashion?"
"Don't be stupid!" she snarled, patience finally snapping in two. "It's…something I picked up the other day. You know, just something…something different."
"Ah. I see."
At that moment, the front door slammed shut and the sound of booted feet walking with stealthy grace echoed toward the kitchen. Bulma's heart leapt into her throat as she hastily excused herself and ran down the hall. Vegeta sauntered across the tile with a leather training jacket slung over one shoulder. Energy crackled around him in almost tangible waves, creating the sensation of an invisible vortex. As his wife jogged down the hall to meet him, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk as he strode steadily toward her.
"Oh Vegeta, I'm so glad you're home!" she cried, stopping about ten feet away from him and regarding him with an overjoyed smile. He didn't reply, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, gradually closing the distance between them. Bulma's heart finally dropped down from her throat and began to run a stationary race as her eyes slid over his freshly toned muscles with silent delight.
But instead of taking her into his arms, Vegeta simply disappeared in front of her and re-emerged a few feet behind her, moving too fast for the eye to see. Confused, she looked over her shoulder, watching him retreat down the hall.
"Vegeta, where are you going?" Turning around, she trotted after him, wanting nothing more than a hug though she knew she wouldn't get it. Vegeta stopped, but did not look back at her.
"I'm looking for the brat," he answered curtly, shrugging into the sleeves of his jacket. "The training starts today."
Bulma stared in disbelief. "What!" she gasped. "Vegeta, he's only a month old! He can't train--!"
"Still your tongue, woman, or I will cut it out," he said icily. "The child should have begun training a week ago, and if it weren't for my own outing I would have started then. Now where is he! I should not have to explain myself like this!"
Swallowing hard, Bulma stood her ground, staring him defiantly in the eye. "He's not going," she said fiercely, "and you're not going to take him."
"Do you have a death wish , girl!" Vegeta demanded, hands clenching into fists.
"No, and neither does Trunks!"
Vegeta was about to issue a biting reply when someone cleared his throat behind them. Andy walked lightly down the hall, running a hand idly through his red hair. "I was wondering, Ms. Bulma," he asked lightly, cool blue eyes running shrewdly across Vegeta's muscled form, "if I might be able to board at your humble home. It would be no more than a week, mind you, and I would pay rent. Usage of your lab would be most wondrous, and your tutelage would prove most educational."
"Tch. Go find your own quarters," Vegeta snarled, energy pulsing to the tip of his hand - a spectacle Andy watched with interest. But before the energy bomb could take shape, Bulma quickly stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on Vegeta's wrist.
"I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a problem," she interrupted, shooting Vegeta a smug glance. "And since it is my house, you can disregard anything this guy says." Vegeta jerked his arm away, never taking his eyes from those of the red-headed aristocrat, who gave a slight bow.
"My sincerest gratitude is yours," he murmured, meeting the gaze of the Saiyan Prince head on without a twitch. "This should prove…most interesting."
Bulma smiled. "Of course. Anything for a client," she said, emphasizing the last word and giving Vegeta a stern glance. The prince didn't catch it; he was too intent on the cold sapphire eyes. Rolling her own eyes, Bulma shook her head and pointed down the hall. "Your room is up the stairs, down the hall, the last room on the left. I'm guessing you have your stuff with you?"
"It's in the limo," he replied with a smile. "I'll retrieve it right away." With that, he turned and disappeared out the front door.
The moment he was out of sight, Vegeta whirled on Bulma, glaring down at her with a scathing stare. "You would do well to trust my decisions, idiot," he hissed, teeth clicking maliciously. "That man is not what he seems."
"Then what is he?" she challenged, planting her hands on her hips. "An alien? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Gerard Andrew the Fourth has been in the artificial intelligence agency since I was a little girl; and we've had our fair share of UFO's and -what do you know! - we're still breathing."
"Though how long some of us will remain as such is open for debate," he shot back. Returning his gaze to the door, he crossed his arms and started toward the kitchen. "The whelp's training will have to wait. Not because you said so - I could care less about that - but because a more serious problem has arisen by means of your stupidity." When he was about to round the corner, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a leering scowl. "And take that ridiculous 'ring' off your finger. It's degrading." With that, he faded into the shadows of the living room and was gone.
Sighing heavily, Bulma clutched her left hand to her heart. The silken hair had almost seemed to conform to her finger over the last few weeks, the oil from the machinery polishing and coating it until it had a sort of glossy sheen. Wrapping around her finger at least six times, it had the appearance of a shining spiral of the purest onyx, and it still held the warmth they had shared under the light of the full moon.
"Bulma, you're such a sentimental old fool," she murmured, stroking the 'ring' with a loving fingertip. "Maybe I really should take this off…Nah." Smiling to herself, she decided to take Andy's advice and hit the hay, turning her steps down the hall to her room that was so often empty. She entered and closed the door behind her, kicking off her tennis shoes and shrugging out of her coffee-stained white lab coat. Sighing heavily, she walked over to the bed, smiling at her baby boy who lay sprawled on the mattress.
"Right where I left you," she murmured, smoothing her baby's silky hair. Sinking to her knees, she crossed her arms on the edge of the bed and rested her chin upon them with a tired grin. Trunks stirred ever so slightly, then turned his tiny head toward her and opened his eyes. Seeing his mother kneeling before him, he let out a shriek of delight and reached out a little hand.
Bulma giggled and held out her finger, letting the child wrap his chubby palm around it and pull it into his mouth, chewing happily. "You're such a little stinker!" she exclaimed, laughing outright. Climbing into bed, she wrapped her arms around the little boy, cuddling him close. "Oh, Trunks, I love you so much," she whispered, nuzzling his diminutive nose. The baby babbled aimlessly, closing a fist in her disheveled hair. Too tired to even attempt to dislodge it, she yawned and closed her eyes, sinking slowly into an abyss that strangely echoed with Vegeta's ominous prediction.
That man's not what he seems…
"Yeah, right," she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. She felt herself losing consciousness at last, lulled to sleep by clatter of technology and the endless whir of electric tools.